


Mistakes Were Made

by spicyarnor



Category: Trails of Cold Steel, 英雄伝説 閃の軌跡 | The Legend of Heroes: Sen no kiseki (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Morning After, Not actually shippy really, Regret, Request Fill, Rufus/Olivert is not my thing ok, Underage Drinking (ok they're like 18), Well more like 3am after, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 01:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyarnor/pseuds/spicyarnor
Summary: Olivert wakes up in Rufus' dorm room at Thors. The wine is most definitely to blame.





	Mistakes Were Made

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill a request. An awful request that I somehow felt strongly compelled to fill. For "Olivier and Rufus, morning after."
> 
> This fic takes place when Olivert (and Rufus) is 18 and in his final year at Thors. Mueller is too but he's 21. I don't know, let's just assume he started school late, thanks to having to do everything with the prince.
> 
> I kind of figured these two probably hooked up while Olivier was attempting to seduce the entire campus, and it was sort of... Not wholly unpleasant, but mostly regrettable. So uh, here you go!
> 
> This isn't part of my series anymore, it's been removed, it just made me too sad.

Prince Olivert woke up feeling incredibly groggy. What time was it? It was still pitch black and he could barely see a thing. There was the unpleasant taste of stale wine in his mouth and his stomach churned uncomfortably as he pushed himself upwards to sit up in bed, hands touching unfamiliar, yet very fine silk sheets.

His eyes caught on the motionless figure draped in fabric next to him.

Oh.

_Oh._

He could barely make out the faint edges of his face in the dark room, but recognizing who exactly was there asleep and vulnerable made his heart stop for a moment.

Rufus Albarea.

He'd managed to bed _Rufus Albarea_.

Surely the man was handsome, incredibly so; but there was something off about him, some sort of sense of a beautiful facade that kept Olivert from making more than a half-hearted pass at his classmate. Except apparently when drunk. Was this sort of thing why the legal drinking age was 20 in Erebonia? He bit his lip and looked away, feeling a mixture of thrilling pride and a bit of shame. The memories of what had happened a few hours prior came flooding back...

Olivert had managed to get his hands on some wine and needed a place to drink it away from Mueller's prying, far too law-abiding eyes. With exams coming up, most people were too busy studying to entertain even the prince... But not Rufus, top of his class, who had finished his preparation early and apparently had a taste for fine wines to match his own. They had gone into Rufus' room to "study" and once they'd shared a few glasses, one thing had somehow led to another...

Rufus' pleasant mask hadn't come off the entire time, and he wouldn't dare touch the prince improperly himself, but he took immense perverse satisfaction in the impropriety of the prince touching him how he pleased, showering him in praise as he explored his body, and then finally --

"Prince Olivert," came a cool, slightly amused sounding voice. He turned back to see Rufus looking at him from where he lay, propping his head up on one hand. "You're still here."

Ah. Well. This was awkward. "I must have fallen asleep," Olivert explained, sliding across the smooth sheets off the bed and onto his feet, then began locating his clothing and slipping it back on. "I suppose I will take my leave now, then."

"That would be best," Rufus agreed, in a somewhat pleasant tone that wasn't quite cold, but the words still stung. "Thank you for sharing your evening and your wine with me... Among other things, Your Highness. You are far too generous."

"Ah, but my duty to beauty demands it," he said, attempting to affect his usual blithe tone but the words just feeling hollow and insincere to him. He fastened the last button on his uniform jacket and made for the door -

"Oh, I'm sure this goes without saying, your Highness, but please do take care not to be seen on your way out. Distasteful rumors would not be favorable for either of us."

"Of course," the prince replied, holding his breath. "Farewell, then." Olivert cracked open the door and, seeing that the coast was clear, left the room quickly, shutting the door quietly behind him.

After that lovely little exchange, the bit of pride he'd felt was nowhere to be found. He felt strangely empty. Beauty without love just would not do...

He walked down the long hallway, feeling especially guilty as he tiptoed past Mueller's room before entering his own as quietly as possible. The walk of shame indeed.

He slumped against the door as soon as he entered and let out a groaning breath...

"And where were you off to in the middle of the night again?" Mueller asked from in front of him, startling Olivert so much he made him actually jump, his heart pounding.

"M-Mueller?! What are you doing in my room?"

"What weren't you doing in yours without telling me is the real question here. I searched the whole goddamn campus for you in the middle of the night!" He sighed in exasperation, then continued. "Olivier, it's my job to keep you safe even here at school, and I can't do that when I don't even know where you are. Trust me, I hate having to ask as much as you hate me asking, but..." he trailed off. "Aidios, have you been drinking again?"

The inquisition had arrived, apparently. So much for his grand plans of letting himself cry a bit as he took a long hot shower. "Yes," he groaned. There was no point in hiding that much. "I feel awful. I've learned my lesson."

Mueller let out a sympathetic-sounding sigh. "I'm impressed. It must have been a really bad night."

"The worst," he moaned. "I'm sorry, Mueller, I didn't mean to cause so much trouble for you."

A pause. Mueller wasn't used to immediate, honest apologies. "...It's alright," he said awkwardly, scratching his neck. "Just... please don't do it again. Especially not right before finals."

"You have my word," Olivert agreed. Mueller's familiar, overbearing concern felt comforting for some reason. Mueller walked past him, opening the door, but the prince laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke with a smile in his voice. "The next time I engage in illicit underage drinking, it will be after finals, and with you."

"…Ugh. _Fine._ " Olivert's hand fell to his side as Mueller left, shutting the door behind him.

Well, the night wasn't a _total_ nightmare, he supposed.

Right then. A shower.


End file.
